Homeland-Tour 2019. October/November. Part II

01/11/19
Café Le Chez Nous & Les Tanneries, Dijon, France

Day eight. Rain. Rain in Basel, rain on the way, fog and even more rain in Dijon. Le Chez Nous, as on my last show here, a cosy harbour on the stormy seas of touring. After two days in Burgundy's finest, being fed and watered, being treated like the long-lost son or brother, this feels more than ever like some place I could imagine calling home some day. Even more so knowing I'll be without a flat in eight months time in Germany. Opening up a punk festival at Les Tanneries was a wild ride last night. No safety net, sort of back to the wall, loved it a lot. Moment like this remind me of what a good song, a voice and a guitar can do. A last one coming tonight at the Vieux Léon to kiss this city goodbye before leaving in the early morning hours for Ambert. The end of the world where souls were weeping and hearts were broken a year ago. Where the congregation of mourners were to set out for their grievous trail down to Nice. To the south. To bury the ghost that has spoken to me from the other side.

02/11/19
Au Vieux Léon, Dijon, France

Day nine. Yet another rainy day in the city of Dijon ended with a show at Au Vieux Léon. A smoky bar in the heart of the city, named after a Brassens song. Entering the bar made me instantly feel like being in the right place. The air heavy with rock'n'roll. Good spirit, lovely people, a perfect place for the kind of songs I write. At least tonight the whole scenery and atmosphere seems to be the perfect surrounding for them. As predictable things got later than planned or expected. Of course on this one tour day I have to catch an early train the next morning. Two sets. First one upstairs in the actual bar, second downstairs in the Léon's vaults. Late lunch in-between. Saw it coming but hell, no, I'll never skip a gorgeous lamb stew prepared by the boss himself if that's on offer. Delicious can't really describe it. The full monty. Of course followed by incredible cheese, a coffee and eau-de-vie. And it was a good night to hang out with Philippe who hosted me for the past days. What a guy! Nuff said.

Le Chez Nous. And the foxhole. Both fab.

Philippe et mon vin rouge.

Soundcheck at Les Tanneries, Dijon.

Dijon. Cradle of skinhead movement.

A good port. Very good. Dijon.

Miracle healing. Southern France 2016.

During the last show I played with Grae J. Wall in Catalonia the problem occurred the first time. Middle of the gig the guitar pickup had these annoying drop outs. No sound - sound - no sound... Bloody mess. Left for Toulouse to play the Les Pavillons Sauvages, worried the whole thing would turn out a disaster just due to some technical issues. Fortunately it didn't. In fact maybe one of the best shows I had the pleasure to play 2016. For some reason the guitar worked all through the show, there was a fantastic crowd, I shared the evening with two most amazing acts (Koonda Holaa and Hilton) and the sound was just perfect. Surprisingly I didn't even fuck up my playing. The Les Pavillons Sauvages family took care of me in a way you don't really get to experience very often on tour. I owe you. A lot.

Insertion/Polaroid
Had a stroll along the Canal du Midi in the afternoon. I was walking towards two plain-clothes police officers walking a young woman away from one of the locks. There were another two uniformed officers obviously examining the scene, a medic followed the two policemen with the lady. She had a Mia Farrow kind of look to her, a tattoo on her arm, maybe the left one, looking terrified, staring at some spot somewhere behind me. I thought she should have been trembling but I think she wasn't. She looked like someone who had just seen or discovered something really terrible, something unspeakably scary, something not meant to be seen by anyone. It was a dim, mid-November afternoon, not particularly cold or warm. I remember there was some Italian chanson or schlager from some open window from across the canal adding a surreal soundtrack to the whole scenery.

As the following day was off I went to see two guitar shops for fixing my guitar. Paprika's Workshop had a look at it but couldn't help as they were up to their neck in work, the other one, Fred's Guitar Parts, was equally helpful but had no spare part for the out-of-phase switch being apparently the trouble maker that cut off the signal as soon as I touched it. Advise: well, can't do anything about it now on such short notice but...erm... maybe just don't touch it. There you are!
Checking the route to my next show in Tarbes I realized this little town in the south of France is just about a 30 minutes ride away from Lourdes. It may sound silly but that's the kind of thinking you inadvertently get into being on tour. "What's good for the blind and the crippled can't be bad for Mäkkelä's guitar." is what I thought... You might figure what I was hoping for.

I drove there. I parked the car. I felt a bit stupid about the whole idea so I didn't take the guitar out of the car. Instead I walked down towards the St Bernadette church or grotto or whatever it is behind it's massive iron gate. I've been told about endless rows of water tabs where one can fill own bottles for some take-away holy water for home healing business. Unfortunately I didn't have a spare bottle on my walk down the hill in the old town of Lourdes. Down the deserted main drag of Bernadette merchandise wonderland, past closed memorabilia shops, through the drizzle, across the river... This was like a film set of some weird road movie. I took a photo of the gate with the Bernadette fountain behind it, at least I assume that's what it's called, turned around and walked back. That's when I spotted what's very likely one of the biggest merchandise supermarkets I've seen all my life. All kind of useful things you would like to take home from your pilgrimage. Candles all sizes, snow globes all sizes, Bernadette shaped bottles (didn't find the dildo shaped ones I've been told about), both filled with water and empty in a broad variety of qualities and makes, a huge selection of things I don't know what they're for, a dashboard-pope and to my big surprise also a dashboard-Mr Bean, the latter in the bargain section. If you ever get there have a look at the Palais du Rosaire. Highly recommended. And still, please believe me, I'm not taking the piss here. It's just yours truly stumbled into a slightly surreal scenery totally new to him. And yes, there was still that thought something around here might help me with my guitar. I did spend about 18 Euros in holy merch for which I got a surprising lot of things including a very small vial with sacred water. Picked up my car and headed for Tarbes. On the drive, mulling over the afternoon, I had to admit my belief has apparently got it's limits. No, I wasn't going to pour the water on my guitar. If that healing power was strong enough just the effort of going there, willing to believe in it, should be enough. Even though I turned out too much of a sceptic at the end of the day.

 

Tarbes. I like Tarbes. I liked it from the moment I bought my first parking ticket there. A bargain. I liked it when I saw the Celtic Pub Is Not A Pub where I was about to perform in with all its posters of a surprising lot of bands I either know or played with before. I liked it when I walked through town and saw the shop window with the penguins and seagulls. I seriously started to love it when the sound was brilliant, JL the bar owner turned out to be a wonderful bloke, the audience was well into what I did on this Friday night and it was packed. You wouldn't expect this in a small town in the south of France. As little as on that very evening the young guy from Hamilton, Ontario probably expected a Finnish-German songwriter playing "End of me", a song written by Wax Mannequin, an artist from his home town and chatting about just recently strolling down James Street N. and having played a gig at the This Ain't Hollywood. Ended the evening with a stiff Picon Bière.

You should also know I'm still brooding about the fact my guitar worked perfectly ok for that night and all the rest of the tour. So...

2016. Germany - France - Scandinavia - Baltics - Poland.

Started slowly in January, performing solo at Egersdörfer & Artverwandte (a fantastic, indescribably bizarre variety/comedy show), supported The Vibrators with The Très Biens, had a most enjoyable 30 minutes feature on BR2 radio in February, first recording sessions for the new album were made with Isi on double bass, Max on drums, Christopher on Sax and Andy of the Goho Hobos on Mandolin and Accordion. What a band! Mixed "Harbour Town" for the digital single release (featuring the wonderful Nightbird who co-wrote the song) plus the "flip side", a rendition of Geoff Berner's "Whiskey Rabbi" with Mr Curley Kauper on harmonica. Played two unforgettable solo shows in France (Strasbourg and Lille) in early April before setting out with Isi Roessler on double bass for the German leg of my tour with Nightbird from Finland. Two magic weeks. From Sarreguemines in France across the south-west and south of Germany it was sheer pleasure. Thanks to all the promoters who booked us there. But listen up now! Whenever things look brightest be prepared for fate taking some of it's funnier twists. It all looked just perfect in early May: from 18 May until 16 June, a nicely booked tour, not necessarily the best paid one but still OK, lay there like a red carpet just waiting for me to walk it down all the way from Germany across Denmark, Sweden, Finland, Estonia, Latvia, Poland, Czech Republic, Slovakia, Austria and back to Germany again. Some grants to our credit (helpful as the last nine shows were in full band line-up), distances not too rough, all pretty close to what I'd call well organized. Sounds awesome, eh? Well, it was. For the first 24 h least. In retrospect, I don't think there hasn't been a tour I ever been closer to just stop the car, do a u-turn and drive back. That must have been around day six. How come? Maybe a short summary of the first six days can explain this...

Wednesday, 18 May
Meeting with Grae J Wall & Los Chicos Muertos in a wonderful middle-of-nowhere village in the south-west of Germany for a first show. All good. Felt somewhat like playing that indomitable Gaul village. Smooth and pleasant start.

Thursday, 19 May
Ah... Houston, we've got a problem here! This town's name is Kassel which has got one of the best cake shops in Germany which is good. Unfortunately the promoter's buddy set the facebook event to secret so apart from him and Mr Mäkkelä nobody really knew there was a gig... Well, shit happens. Been fed, watered, put up for the night and paid some gas money. Fair enough, thanks. Really.

Friday, 20 May
Off. Kassel to Copenhagen in one go seems a bit too ambitious. So let's drive to the north end of Germany/south end of Denmark find a cheapo Air B&B, take a little rest, sleep and continue relaxed and refreshed. Good plan. In theory. That whole idea appears to be not half as relaxing once you manage to lose the key to the room, unfortunately a master key for the whole bloody students flat, few seconds after receiving it. Results in extra expenses of EUR 250.-

Saturday, 21 May
Back in business. Just a tiny little streak of bad luck. Let's look ahead! Copenhagen is waiting. Last shoppings done in Germany: chocolate, tobacco, few bottles of wine. Things largely unaffordable in most of Scandinavia. Prepared. But hey what's that? What is that big, black, brand new BMW giving me signs on the Danish motorway? What's wrong here? Unmarked police car? Well, maybe better stop on the hard shoulder. This is getting even weirder now... There's a young man in a cheap blue blazer, jumping out of the car rushing wildly gesticulating towards my vehicle... "Man, I'm in trouble! Need your help!" "Sorry?" "Give me 100 EUR! I'm running out of petrol and have to sell this car to some really rough Russian guys in Copenhagen today! PLEASE! You take my gold chain, smart phone, wristwatch, everything! PLEASE!" "Sorry, mate. I'm really broke myself. Can't help, really!" (he's checking the car and apparently realizes there might be some truth in what I just said) "So, what about the chocolate?" "Erm... sorry? What chocolate?" "For the kids! The chocolate!" (I'm really confused now) "What kids? What chocolate?" He grabs the big pack of Kinder chocolate from the seat, runs back to his car and off he goes. Wow. This is weird. Apparently I just became the victim of the first chocolate robbery I heard of. In Denmark. Right on the motorway. Will have to think
about this for a while I suppose. Few minutes later the call comes in from Copenhagen the main act of the evening has to cancel for tonight. Means the band that was supposed to pull at least some crowd will not be there for the door rated show. I'm a bit worried. I'm not even in Sweden and things already look kinda shitty...

Sunday, 22 May
Well, Copenhagen is a nice city. Let's leave it to that. I wasn't robbed and they gave me free drinks at the venue. I'm sure the sky will clear up now. Leaving for Sweden, a safe and sound country with a strong and organized police force, maybe the safest place in Scandinavia. Going to meet Nightbird in Gothenburg for our first show together. Will be very likely completely broke after paying the toll for the bridge but that's it! Now the merch sales will increase, the Swedes are friendly and generous and the weather seems to be alright. It turns out there is no point in parking a car out in the street in Gothenburg. Also, the hostel guys recommend to pay few crowns extra for the basement car park. Not much more than out on the street and much safer of course. Done. Sorted. We're early, so Nightbird and me have a little stroll down to the venue which looks... erm... not really very open. In fact this place looks absolutely dead. But, as I said, we're really early. Nightbird calls the promoter and...: "Oh no! You guys are the only ones I forgot to inform. We're closed since today for renovations for the next three weeks. There won't be a gig tonight. But maybe you can call this and this number. They might put you guys up on short notice...." This seems to all follow a certain logic. This streak seems to last a bit too long for my liking. Even though on short notice We surprisingly end up with a replacement show in a lovely venue named Pustervik. Dragging our gear back to the hostel after the show I start feeling kind of optimistic we're back in track now. Waking up late morning I realize I'm out of tobacco. No problem - there's enough in the car. Just down the stairs in the garage. The same car where there is the emergency stash of red wine, my fresh t-shirts, panties, all this. The same car that is parked safely for 150 Swedish Crowns in a car park off the terribly expensive and dangerous streets of Gothenburg. The very car I'm just now looking at, intensely trying not to believe what I'm staring at. Part of my brain just doesn't want to accept the fact that the nearside door lock is dangling from it's designated position in a most unfamiliar way on a thin lead. Houston, we... Fuck. Sorry for using swear words. That could have been the moment for packin it in. It's been a close call. As shitty the situation was, at least no instruments or valuables were in the car and the guys who broke in had apparently unusual preferences. They didn't nick the case with mics and leads. They left all the merchandise apart from a box of 7" eps "Single Of The Year". They took all the tobacco (of course), all the red wine (of course), a bloody cell phone charger for EUR 5.- (why on earth?), an old suitcase with t-shirts, panties, socs (well,...), my old black suit (that wasn't fair) and my old tour jacket with all the badges I collected en route (may you rot in hell for that).

Monday, 23 May
Sightseeing. Mainly Gothenburg police department. Might be worth coming back, the officer were really interested in what kind of stuff I'm playing. So much about the less fortunate bit of this year's touring season. The overall situation slowly improved after this, i.e. moving on towards Finland was sort of easy to handle. Getting on the boat in Stockholm (after a lovely Tuesday, playing an afternoon show at the TWANG!) had no more difficulties to offer than two cancelled shows prior to entering the cuntry. Ooops. Sorry for that. Don't get me wrong - we had some really pleasant shows in Finland. Surprisingly enough we found on very short notice replacements for the gigs that fell through. Thanks a lot for helping us in HKI (House Of Love) and Turku (Sointu)! Vastavirta, Tampere and Vakiopaine, Jyväskylä plus the one I played in Rovaniemi with Otto Mikkola were particularly amazing. Had a fun afternoon visiting Radio Helsinki with Nightbird for a little interview at Njassa's show. People who turned up for the shows were great and seemed to really like what we did. Enjoyed meeting friends again I haven't seen in a while made up for a lot of trouble even though I think this can be done with less effort by just flying over. But still there is something in the back of my mind that keeps on nagging that more and more promoters/venues up there seem to fancy the concept of seeing artists like some sort of aggravating, exotic life form turning up primarily to reduce the venues liquid inventories and thus should not be treated too friendly.

So let's move on to the Baltics. Kultuuriklubi Kelm in Tallinn, Estonia was a lovely place to perform in. The nights bill looked promising: Mäkkelä solo, two progressive/post-rock bands from St Petersburg and a local headliner. I wasn't surprised to hear the local headliner cancelled on short notice. Business as usual. As the two young lads in whose flat I was supposed to stay the night were in party-mode full-on I decided to leave town right after packing up in the wee hours and drive straight to Liepaja in Latvia. Ambitious go but not feasible. It's a nice drive, probably even nicer in daylight. Made it almost down to Riga for a little nap on the Baltic Sea shore. The exciting bit started from there. If you ever happen to make it there by car be prepared that main roads or roads classified as A-Roads are not necessarily asphalted roads. This might take more time than you would expect after checking your road map or following instructions of your GPS. You won't regret it though as you will see herons, cranes, foxes, storks and all kind of wild animals both on the roadside or just crossing the road without giving too much of a fuck on who or what is just coming their way. Exciting! I liked that. As much as I liked the people at the Ideju Bode and Martins the guy who organized the show. Very special in a lot of ways, very rewarding concert. Among my favourite places 2016.
Hope to catch up some day soon.

Biala Poslaska. The least I would have expected was a vegan restaurant in the very east of Poland, not too far from the Belorussian border. Neither would I have expected to play a wonderful show there on an early Sunday evening. Before I came here the first time with Ozzmond I had to look it up on Google. Not the place you would regularly travel through I suppose. Not really on a main route to anywhere but one of the most welcoming places I've been to. Some of the nicest people there I met on tour. Very special. If playing there was like diving into a strange and friendly new universe the first time in 2015, this time it was touching the hearts of an audience and being touched the same time. In the unlikely event you're coming through town, look for some Karma. You'll find it. And you'll know what I mean.

Insertion/Polaroid
They took away the great balloon. The one you can have a ride with for a few Sloty. They would let you rise up into the clear blue sky for a sight across town. Maybe further. I didn't go there. I just saw it up there and it was enough of a promise to make me come back. One day, I thought, I'd take a ride. Missed it. Got the best ice cream in town instead and a walk on the bank with Michal and Paula. She said "I don't think I'll ever go back. I became too European living here." I think I understand. Firemen on a mission blocked the road next to the bridge we took across the river, with our ice cream, with life being sweet, strawberry flavoured and easy for a little while in the sunshine, the sculpture of a pig in the middle of the mighty stream. I could set there, watch it flow, not let go of a fist full of bliss while time would just stop for a little while. There is something about rivers I can't name.

 

Mäkkelä's tour blog 2016: the big chocolate robbery

I suppose it was a sign. Just about leaving my flat for this tour's first date I flushed the toilet and - bang! - that damn thing is jammed. Even though being not the most caring person I kind of understood it wouldn't have been a good idea to leave the place like this for four weeks. Calling some plumbers, wait for them to arrive, being late, being even more late, calling girlfriend and leaving this all to her (sorry for this) and setting out for a place called Hessenau. Lovely little first gig teaming up with my St Albans friends Grae J Wall & Los Chicos Muertos in a wonderfully bizarre location, middle of nowhere in the backwoods of Baden-Württemberg, Germany. Next stop Kassel. Arriving early enough for a cuppa in my favourite cake shop just to realize I forgot my mic stand at home. Made it to a music shop just before closing time to buy a new one. The show turns out to be, let's say, semi successful. They accidentally set the facebook event to "secret". Didn't work out very effectively for promoting the gig. Well, that kind of stuff happens, but still I didn't see the signs. Maybe because it always takes a while to realize a tour is a tour, not a holiday trip. Things got more interesting on day #3 heading north for Copenhagen. This being a pretty long drive I decided to stay the night in Flensburg, Germany right on the Danish border. Air B&B is what we touring lunatics use these days. Basically a good idea if I hadn't lost the main key to the flat about one minute after it was given to me. Excellent. Turned out to cost me EUR 250.- unless I'd return the key before August. Not very likely to happen after all that was still to come. I assume that key is now somewhere in or near Gothenburg/Sweden but more about this later.

But let's move on to day #4. A real highlight on this tour. Still don't know what this has been.
Been driving for about one hour on a nice motorway in Denmark, one of the strongholds of European civilization and sure no country one would associate with being particularly dangerous, when a big black BMW gave me signs, made me slow down and stop on the hard shoulder. "Are they in trouble?", the writer of these lines asked himself, or maybe an unmarked police car? None of this. A youngish person in a cheap blue suit jumps out, approaches my car asking me to turn down the window. Alright, apparently no policeman. A desperate human being as it turns out. "Man, I'm in trouble! Need to get that car to Copenhagen, sell it to some Russians. Running out of petrol, please give me EUR 100.-! You can have my smartphone, my rings, my gold chain, the whole lot!"
It took me a while to convince him there's nothing even close to EUR 100.- as me being a musician on tour not doing very well money wise. Next thing the guy points at the pack of chocolate bars on the passenger seat. "What about the chocolate?" "Sorry????" "I mean the chocolate bars!" "Whatcha talking about?" "For the kids! The chocolate!" This confuses me. A lot. Even more confusing, the guy grabs the pack of chocolate bars, runs off to his car and gone. Both. Big black car and all of my chocolate bars. Didn't even get one of the rings for this. Sad but true. Still wondering what this has been.

Nightbird with coffee. Gothenburg.

But now let's stop whining as we're approaching day #5. My first show with Nightbird on this tour and my first ever in Gothenburg, Sweden. What an adventure.

Met Nightbird, checked into hostel, booked car park in nearby garage rented out by the hostel for SEK 150.-. Good. Drove to venue. Ok, we're pretty early this time, but hey, this place looks kinda very shut down. And not just for now. Good thing is, Nightbird is a multilingual bird, she even speaks Swedish. As also being a pretty clever bird she decides to ring up the promoter what time we may expect the place to open for soundcheck. Turns out to be a smart move. The guy forgot to inform us the venue is closed down for renovation the next couple of weeks from today on. Show cancelled. But: there is an open-mic night in town this very evening, we're told. You guys might get a slot there... After all I don't really mind. Why not. We're screwed anyway. But you must never give in, miracles still happen as we all know.
At Pustervikens Bar, a fantastic bar & concert venue, they wouldn't let us participate in the open mic thing, instead they offer us a proper gig in the bar area, put up a stage & pa, we get fed, all hunky dory. I'm impressed. This place regularly hosts shows of all the big names touring Sweden. Mark Lanegan was here, The Jayhawks and Ian Hunter are coming and now it's Nightbird and Mäkkelä. Seemingly my streak of bad luck has come to an end. Well, let's wait for day #6.

That's me waking up late morning, a happy person with an off-day on tour, taking a stroll to the garage to pick up some clean shirt and a pack from my stash of rolling tobacco.
You might know that kind of moment in life. You're staring at something that's actually there but your brains try to tell you it's not. Just because accepting it's there would make you feel extremely unhappy. It's a good thing for which I like the brains being what they are. Then, after a few seconds time that very brain cautiously would make you figure there's not too much about this you can do but cope with the fact it's really there. Like for instance the sight of the lock of your car door dangling on a lead from the place you've seen it the last time. Which is not exactly the place it should be dangling quite apart from the fact car locks aren't usually dangling anywhere. Obviously the respective lock you're just staring at is not in it's designated position. Next thing your brain would tell you is, this is in fact your car and it looks pretty much like a car someone has broken into. It'll be by that time you realize you might be in trouble and rather check what's left of your belongings...

Counting the losses results in a surprisingly strange selection of nicked items. Two boxes ( ca. 45 copies) of 7" eps "Single Of The Year", limited edition hand numbered, the black sleeve version. Eight packs of rolling tobacco. Six bottles of red wine. A brown leather suitcase without handle containing all I've got to wear on this tour. One black suit, worn out. One old Swedish army jacket. One blue jacket with a lot of badges on and a patch my Slovakian Skate-Folk (that's right, a new genre I just discovered last year down there) friends of Sketord gave me. An inner sole of one of my shoes. A shoulder bag with my Opinel knife in. A carrier bag with old table cloths, books and some kind of charity shop stuff I was planning to drop at my family's cottage in Finland (why on earth this...?). A car adapter for my phone charger. A Finnish mobile phone card. Lemme think... Oh yes, there is still the chance I lost that Flensburg key in my car while leaning over unloading my gear few days ago. In that case this key has possibly found a new home somewhere in Gothenburg.
Interesting also what remained untouched. A brand new quality mic stand. An alu case including a sm58 microphone, all my leads (good quality, expensive ones), all the CDs, all the LPs (apparently they had a look at them as one was taken out of the box and not put back.... well, that's alright, I put it back, good you didn't like it), most of the 7" eps. Hey boys, I might be wrong in this, but I've got a feel if you carry on this way you won't make it big time in your profession. Also they left me some litter. The wrapping of two Swedish chocolate bars. I'm slightly worried about the future of organized crime in Scandinavia after this. They've got some weird chocolate thing going up here.


At least it has been an unexpectedly professional job. No windows smashed, they just drilled open the door lock. Thanks for this. Looking at the positive aspects of this we've got a lot more space in the car now and it does make a lot more sense playing "Light Enough To Travel". There is some comfort in this I suppose. Also the car is still moving and we can continue to Stockholm. I've got a vague feel we do urgently need some sort of turning point on this whole trip. Realistically it's been going downhill so far. A good gig, with some pay and a some merchandise sales might cheer us up.

An important thing to mention here is also my deepest gratitude to all of you out there who reacted on my facebook posts re. this incident. That was a massive wave of helpfulness and support. I've been offered red wine, shirts, jackets, money, you name it! Countless people reposted this, some I know, a lot I never met. All of this highly appreciated! Thanks to all of you for these encouraging messages, posts, mails. May the chocolate gods be with you.

More or less interesting images taken on this tour can be found on the maekkelae facebook page or group.

Last Of A Dying Breed. Tourblog 2015. Episode 1

Mäkkelä. Collodium Fotografie von Peter Kuntz

GLAUBE

Es sind die Nebensätze. Oft. An die ich mich in Zeiten der Unsicherheit klammere. Also diese - vielleicht - zufällig, unbeabsichtigt geäusserten Bemerkungen. Ich glaub die. Weil es nicht so allzuviel anderes gibt an das zu glauben lohnt. Zumindest bei dem was ich hauptsächlich tue.

Das Schreiben des Albums, die Aufnahmen zwischen den Tour-Phasen oder auch mittendrin, dabei die jetzt bevorstehende Tour zu buchen... Zwei Jahre? Drei? Dazwischen immer wieder "ich stemm das nicht. Das wächst mir über den Kopf." Aber jetzt aufstecken wäre ein noch größerer Fehler. Wenn es ganz schlimm wurde hat sich's dann doch zu richtig angefühlt um hinzuschmeissen.
Auf dem Trottoir vor dem Tavastia Club hat er dann aufgeglüht. Dieser kleine Satz. Das Ende von einem, der Beginn des anderen. Beim Abschiedskonzert von 22-Pistepirkko in Helsinki. Der Mann aus Dänemark. "Now the torch has been passed on to you. You've got to do it."

Das hab ich geglaubt. Weil es wichtig war. Es wäre jetzt nicht das selbe ohne den. Und ich glaub's immer noch. Manche Dinge sollte man nicht hinterfragen.
Es folgt: ein Monat der sich überschlägt. September. Drei Wochen Zeit alle Tour-Details zu klären, letzte und allerletzte Konzerte zu buchen. Bestätigungen, positive. Emmerich Thürmers und Peter Gruners Reviews insbesondere. Erstmals Menschen die zum neuen Album gratulieren. Das ist neu. Rückschläge auch. Genügend. Wenige Proben mit einer Band, der Band, für den Record Release Gig. Eine einmalige Sache. Bis zuletzt keine Ahnung ob die das hinkriegen. Ich will es glauben. Ich muss. Die sind gut. Ich fühl das. Mir bleibt auch nicht allzuviel anderes übrig.
Parallel dazu eine halbe handvoll Folk-Songs für den Auftritt beim Nuremberg International Human Rights Film Festival einüben. Oder eher: verstehen. Meinen Zugang finden, das Stück von mir das da drin steckt zu lokalisieren.

Es ist geworden. Mehr geworden als ich zu hoffen gewagt hatte. Die Record Release Show im Nürnberger Casablanca Kino ein Fest. Wir haben's nicht an die Wand gefahren. Lange nicht mehr so viel Glück während und nach einem Konzert gespürt. Grossartige Isabel Rößler, Christopher Kunz, Maximilian Breu, Andy Conrad und Frank Mollena an der Technik. Nicht zu vergessen Det Paulig, der an diesem Abend gefilmt hat. Hier die Liveversion von Air Catalan mit Band beim Record Release Gig am 25.09.2015

Wochenends drauf der Tour-Testlauf. Auftritt beim Film Festival in Nürnberg. Donnerstag. Gut gewesen. Etwas wacklig. Die frischen Nummern allerdings sehr gut. Ziemlich zufrieden vor allem mit meiner Version von Eric Bogles "And The Band Played Waltzing Mathilda" und "Sergeant Small" (Tex Morton, 1938). Muss sich vielleicht noch etwas zurechtschleifen.
Dann Freitag und Samstag Trash-Folk/Lofi-Country Irrsinn mit den The Goho Hobos. Bamberg zuerst, dann Königstein in der Oberpfalz (war es die Oberpfalz?). Überlebt. Überraschend gut und das ist weiß Gott nicht selbstverständlich mit dieser Band.
Sonntag den Abschluss-Slot beim Eröffnungsfestival des Kulturzentrums Z Bau in Nürnberg gespielt. Scheisskalt, Pisswetter. Da jagst Du keinen Hund vor... naja, kennst Du ja. Mit dabei: das Nürnberger Blues-Harp Urgestein Curley Kauper als Gast. Instinkt-Gig. Irgendwie alles richtig gewesen an dem Abend. In der ehemaligen SS-Kaserne Geoff Berner's "Whiskey Rabbi" zu spielen insbesondere. Kein abgeklärter Gig, eher: Raum, Stimmung, Zeit, Publikum eine nicht erklärbare Einheit. Es gibt so Tage.

Da stehen wir jetzt. Dieses Ding das sie Europa nennen liegt da und wartet auf mich, grösser als ich bisher dachte das es sein könnte. Ich glaub auch daran.

Mäkkelä


Für das Roadtracks Magazin geschrieben, findest Du bis Dezember 2015 in diesem Blog Nachrichten, Wasserstandsmeldungen, Befindlichkeitsnachweise und vermutlich auch den einen oder anderen Link aus der etwas unkalkulierbaren "On Tour"-Parallelwelt von Mäkkelä's Tour zu seinem am 4. September veröffentlichten Album "Last Of A Dying Breed". Alle kommenden Konzerttermine auf maekkelae.com.

Sonic map of Europe

Fürth (GER) to Calais (F). Night ride.
The Dead Brothers "Black Moose" (album), Zoreilles Dehors, Kuu "Sex Gegen Essen" (album), TV Smith "Dangerous Playground" (single)

Toulouse (F) to St Etienne (F) via Route Nationale. Night ride.
Tom Waits "Real Gone" (album), Arcade Fire "The Suburbs" (album)

Nijmegen (NL) to Fürth (GER). Day ride. 
The Felice Brothers "The Felice Brothers" (album), Dan Bern "Fifty Eggs" (album)

Leiden (NL) to Fürth (GER). Night ride.
Dan Bern "Smartie Mine" (album). 6 1/2 hours. Just the one. Apparently a very good one.

Fürth (GER) to Berlin (GER). Night ride.
Eleni Mandell "Country for True Lovers" (album)

Bath (UK) to Huddersfield (UK). Day ride.
Elvis Costello & The Attractions "Live at the El Mocambo"

Krakow (PL) to Berlin (GER). Day ride.
Limboski "Verba Volant"

WTF is this about?